The stormcaller

that might be bound to his enemies. Styrax was not yet strong enough to challenge the Gods, and ownership of a Crystal Skull was not encouraged, even among their greatest Chosen. There was no reply. CHAPTER 28

Doranei idly scratched at the stubble on his cheek, keeping his eyes low and disinterested as he eavesdropped on the next table. He sat alone in a dark corner of the inn, sipping weak beer and occasionally checking the scarf had not slipped from his neck. The bar was warm and the tightly wrapped scarf had attracted some attention, but Doranei didn't have the sort of face that encouraged questions. The next table was occupied by a group of farmers discussing the topic that occupied everyone else in this town: word of Lord Isak's imminent arrival had come two days ago, and he was expected this evening. Tongues were wagging.

'Can't see that one sending the Krann away if they've fallen out. He's a mad bastard when he's roused-'

'They all are,' interrupted another. From Doranei's brief observation of the trio it seemed this speaker had been born surly. Only bitter little miseries had passed his lips throughout the evening. 'A traveller told me that the Krann was too ashamed to leave his tent for three days after the battle of Lomin. Even for a white-eye he'd fought like a blood-crazed daemon.' The man was bent over his drink, staring into the near-empty pot with a resigned air.

The inn was hardly the best this small town had to offer. The wooden walls were cracked and warped; the stench of sweat and mould and old smoke and spilt beer filled the air. Doranei was well used to sleeping under the stars or in a stable, but the ingrained grime nagged at his mind.

Face it, Doranei, he thought with a wry smile, the king's made a snob of you. This is the sort of tavern you spent far too long in when you were younger.

'So why's he coming, then?' urged the youngest of the three. The dirt wasn't yet ingrained into his skin like the others. A spark of

interest in the Land remained yet.

Doranei knew the answer. Underneath his scarf he was concealing the bee emblem. He was dressed in studded leather and mail, but that was common enough here; no one would take much note of a soldier. The bee device would mark him out as a King's Man. Dark things were whispered about the King's Men, rumours that they were above the law, which was actually one of the few truths told about them. With the bee in full sight, honest men would go silent in his presence and wonder what indiscretions they might be accused of. No magistrate would dare touch Doranei, no matter what the crime, in case it bore the royal sanction. It would be futile to explain to people that the king demanded absolute selflessness of service from his men. He punished corruption savagely – and had an uncanny knack of rooting

it out.

The Krann's probably here to sign some treaty,' declared the first farmer after a thoughtful pause. 'Everyone knows the Farlan have claims on Tor Milist, probably they don't want a war with us, so King Emin and that Krann, what's his name again-?'

'Isak, they say. His father named him out of spite – typical bloody Farlan. Probably regretting that now his son's Krann!' The surly individual laughed at his own words as his companion nodded.

'Isak, that's the one. Bet he's here to draw a line down Tor Milist and offer the king half. Bastard'11 probably take it too, another few towns to hang his colours in.'

Doranei's fist closed instinctively. The three farmers chuckled on, unaware of how close they were to a beating, when a trumpet rang out through the night. This was a border town, with lookouts on constant watch. The men looked at each other, the smiles falling away: riders approaching. It was a fair guess that one of them would be the

Krann.

Talk in the tavern quietened, then stopped completely as folk looked at each other to see who was going to move first. They all wanted to see the white-eye in his fancy elven armour, but no one wanted to be the first to rush off and stare at a foreigner. Farlan arrogance wasn't appreciated here, not now that Narkang's strength neared that of Farlan and Chetse.

Doranei stood slowly, the scrape of his chair drawing all eyes. He unwound his scarf with deliberate care, drawing great satisfaction as the three farmers started shaking at the sight of the golden bee on

his collar. He pulled on a worn pair of gloves, retrieved his cape from the spare chair at his table and then made his way out. In his wake Doranei felt people stir, but he had reached the stables before he heard eager footsteps run for the walls. He ran an affectionate hand down his horse's grey neck, she turned to nuzzle at him, then nosed his hand, questing for food.

He draped an arm over the horse's neck and, looking straight into her hazel eye, said, 'Well, my friend, shall we go and see this Krann who's got everyone so excited?'

The mare snorted and shook her head. Doranei chuckled and patted the creature. 'Ah, you could be right there. However, it will be as the king commanded. The Krann might be bringing dark times, but that's been our life for a spell anyway.' He swung himself easily up into the saddle, then the tall grey started out at a brisk trot towards the gate tower.

'Hey, where do you think you're going?' demanded the watchman belligerently. Behind him, Doranei could see a collection of men eyeing him nervously. One was riding a handsome hunter, probably the local suzerain. He was old, but he could obviously still wield the blade at his hip. The others were town councillors, nervous and sweating under the ceremonial finery of their offices. Doranei suppressed a smile – their opinion of all Parian as peacocks would hardly extend to a white-eye.

'I've been sent to greet the Lord Isak and put myself at his disposal.'

The watchman advanced with a curse on his lips before noticing the emblem on Doranei's collar. He reined in sharply, eyes narrowing in the dim light. 'You're a King's Man?'

'No, I just wear his badge because I hear he's a good man to irritate,' Doranei snapped. Without waiting for a reply he directed his horse around the man and advanced on the others. To one side a mounted figure stirred, only to be stopped by a raised hand from the suzerain.

As Doranei reached them he saw the figure in the shadows was wearing fine clothes, but his gauntlets betrayed mail underneath. Doranei guessed it was the nobleman's son. That was all he needed now, a provincial hothead who was yet to learn he couldn't be rude to everyone he met. The old soldier who'd sired him obviously had wits enough to be cautious. The king was very specific about his men

getting the right amount of respect due their position. If that meant fighting duels with incautious noblemen, he was happy to pay the price.

'My Lord Suzerain,' Doranei called, inclining his head respectfully to the man. He made a point of ignoring the others, turning his back on the councillors as he rode past them.

'I'm Suzerain Coadech,' confirmed the older man. 'And you're no royal herald. Why would the king send a soldier to greet the Farlan Krann?'

Doranei kept his face impassive. Though he would prefer to be friendly with the suzerain – and he had heard good things of Coadech – his job meant he stayed apart. King's Men were an unknown quantity to all but the king himself.

'He would not; he sent me instead. However, I'm sure he would prefer you, his most venerable subject, to ride out and greet the Krann.'

The son made an indignant noise, but the suzerain merely smiled. He'd seen enough of life not to react to a small jibe, given in a friendly way. King's Men held no titles, but their power rivalled any subject of the king's.

'Then I would be pleased to. I hope the king would not find me impertinent if I don’t offer your services to his honoured guest, other than as a guide – it might appear strange to put all of your skills at the disposal of a foreign power.'

Doranei's eyes narrowed. He was very aware that many believed the wearers of the bee to be little more than royal assassins – but there was a crinkle of humour around the suzerain's mouth. He returned the smile and gestured for the elderly man to take the lead. A whistle from above set the men opening the great ceremonial gates. The suzerain trotted forward, followed closely by his scowling son so there would be no room for Doranei. The King's Man ignored the youth and turned to the councillors.

'Wait here. If the Krann has had a long journey, he might not want to meet a whole line of officials before he's even got off his horse.'

They looked dismayed at his words, but found no courage to protest as he tapped the hilt of his sword